


Old Traditions

by In_Pieces



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Cultural References, Día de los Muertos | Day of the Dead, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27361324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Pieces/pseuds/In_Pieces
Summary: Sombra visits her parents’ graves on Día de Muertos and reminisces about her childhood.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 12





	Old Traditions

Music filled the air both from loud speakers and _mariachis_ as Sombra made her way through the cemetery, adjusting the basket on her hands. The graveyard was a sea of flowers, the air pungent with their powdery smell as thousands of candles went as far as the eyes could see, the moonlight paling under their flames.

She saw children running around. Teenagers setting down blankets to sit down beside their loved ones. Adults singing their hearts out or bawling their eyes out as they stared at the pictures of those who were no longer with them. Still, the atmosphere wasn’t as heavy as it usually was, the heartache and sorrow dissipating for the night and giving way to animated chatter that lifted all heavy hearts.

Her parents’ graves looked bleak, the tombstones caked with dirt and grime that had accumulated throughout the months. The flowers she’d brought last year were wilted nothings, the water dark and muddy at the bottom of the flower vases.

A couple of decades ago, their graves were simple lumps of dirt with lousy metal crosses on top. It reduced her parents to faceless casualties, and that had been enough to make her blood boil as the painful memories of the time she’d seen them under the rubble came alive in her mind. She remembered their inert bodies surrounded by debris and bullets, blood pooling under their chests. Remembered her high-pitched screams echoing in the air until her throat was raw and her reddened eyes could no longer shed any tears, a dirty teddy bear in her arms.

She had them made out of marble when she could afford it; it was the least she could do to honor them.

“Do you need water, _mija_?” 

Sombra, no, _Olivia_ turned to the friendly father of two on her left who pointed to a small bucket on the ground. He laid it down gently beside her, a small smile gracing his features before he went back to his family, helping his daughters arrange the flowers they’d brought for their mother.

“Thanks.” The rag that rested on top of her basket was dunked into the water and wrung before she wiped their tombstones clean, the biting cold keeping her grounded.

The innocent little girl she used to be was long gone, but she couldn’t bear to be anything but her mother’s _amor_ and her father’s _princesa_ when she stood before them. So she pretended that Olivia was still there. Tonight, she was that little girl who had to sit on her father’s lap to use the computer, her hand so small she could barely grip the mouse properly. Was the girl who had squealed in delight when someone gave her a chalky butterfly-shaped makeup palette that she’d slathered all over her eyes because she wanted to look as pretty as her mother.

Her parents were the only part of her past she couldn’t let go. She’d only managed to salvage a single picture of them that she’d encrypted so well even she had trouble accessing it from time to time. Her mother was staring straight at the camera, violet eyes lit up with joy, rose-colored lips in a beaming smile. Her father was looking at her with pure adoration, his smile reaching his eyes as he pulled his wife into a hug.

 _Día de muertos_ used to be something special for them. Mom would take her to the little flower shop that was near their home and, together, they would pick the sweetest flowers. Then, they’d head to the candy shop and buy a couple of sugar skulls for the altar. They loved them, and mom would always buy extras just for the two of them to enjoy while they sat on the porch.

Dad would stop by the bakery when he came home from work, the paper bag in his hands full of _pan de muerto_ : one for her grandparents, one for her mom, two for her, and two for him. They would eat them at dinner with a cup of hot cocoa, the foam leaving a small mustache on top of their lips that would always make her giggle with childish delight.

The altar they made at home was astonishing. Colorful sheets of perforated paper adorned it. Candles could be seen left and right, the sweet smell of incense filling the air. Sugar skulls were scattered here and there, some small, some as big as Olivia’s face. Her grandparents’ favorite dishes were left on clay plates, a half-empty bottle of mezcal resting right in the middle of it all. And there, propped against the wall, was the last picture they took of them before they passed away.

Graves weren’t supposed to be turned into altars, but Olivia didn’t care. She didn’t have a place to call home to follow the proper tradition. Not after that fateful night.

Her feeble attempt to decorate their graves was nothing compared to what they used to make. Still, she arranged the candles until the pale marble reflected their yellow flames and scattered marigold petals across the cold surfaces, watching them dent in the spots where she laid down a couple of plates with _pan de muerto_. Two for her dad, one for her mom. She’d bought a couple of sugar skulls and gingerly placed in the middle of her mother’s grave, nestled by small white flowers.

The ground was cold and hard when she sat down in front of them, the blanket under her body providing little to no comfort as she stared in silence at the flickering candle lights.

“I’m sorry.”

Each year it became harder and harder to pretend she was the daughter they remembered. The daughter they loved until their last breath. What would they think of her now that her heart was hardened and her gaze all too dark? Would it all be pain and disappointment?

She knew the answer all too well.

They wouldn’t be proud of her choices. Wouldn’t like who she’d become. And maybe that’s why she always crawled back home, ignoring the danger it posed. Everything she did today was an apology that would never be heard. A reminder of days long past. A promise that she’d keep their family tradition going, even if she was the only remaining Colomar Avitia and that would forever remain the same.

She reached for the bottle of mezcal in the basket and carelessly unscrewed the top before she took a hefty sip, welcoming the burn that trickled down her throat.

Olivia didn’t know how long she would stay. Maybe until the booze ran out. Maybe until the music finally stopped. Maybe until the break of dawn. Either way, she had a long night ahead and, to that, she could only raise the bottle to her lips and take another long, painful sip. For her mom. For her dad. For the childhood that was stripped away from her.

**Author's Note:**

> \- _Día de muertos_ is a two-day celebration to honor and remember the dead. It’s believed that the souls of the deceased come down to Earth to visit their loved ones and join the celebration.  
> \- _Mariachi’s_ the name of both an ensemble and genre of music. It’s quite common to see them offering to play songs on _Día de Muertos_.  
> \- _Mija_ is the shortened version of _mi hija_ , my daughter. It’s a term that can be used to endearingly refer to a stranger who’s younger than you.  
> \- _Amor_ means love, and _princesa_ means princess.  
> \- _Pan de muerto_ is this bad boy[ right here!](https://www.mexicodesconocido.com.mx/wp-content/uploads/2016/10/receta-original-de-pan-de-muerto-y-con-mantequilla.jpg) You can only find this type of bread at the end of October and throughout November. It has a slight orange-y taste. It’s very good!  
> \- Like Sombra mentioned in the story, graves aren’t traditionally turned into altars. Graves are usually decorated with flowers and candles, and altars are typically made and displayed at home.  
> \- The vast majority of Mexicans have two surnames and, since Sombra was also honoring her mother, I thought it would be nice for her to acknowledge and embrace her maternal surname as well. Avitia has a nice ring to it, and that's pretty much the reason why I picked that one in particular, lol.  
> Thank you for reading! <3  
> 


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